


fall from grace

by birdseeker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Post-Deathly Hallows, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdseeker/pseuds/birdseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione watched as the star streaked across the sky and opened her palm; waiting. Post-DH. D/Hr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall from grace

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god. i started this in 2014 (time _flies_ ) and i barely changed anything. the original summary was weird and this is weird (what is pacing?) but yeah.
> 
> also, i really love romance based on a steady friendship. meep.
> 
> (even though the quality is all over the place, enjoy this monster /winkwink)

(i)

"How are you doing it?"

It stopped her brisk walk to the library and she turned around, assuming it was directed at her since there was nobody else in the empty hallway. Surprisingly, Hermione faced the last person she thought would be talking to her. Quite voluntarily too, she might add.

After all, it was absurd that the Draco Malfoy was trying to talk to her.

Or maybe demand something, judging by his tone.

(He really would never _ask_ for something).

"Malfoy," she huffed the name in annoyance and decided that she really should be running to the library, not really caring about the question that she couldn't quite catch. She had had enough of his pathetic insults.

" _How are you doing it?"_ He demanded, louder this time, and it seemed that he was gritting his teeth as he questioned her. As if asking _her_ was an utterly degrading thing for him to do.

Her heart burned with rage.

"Doing what, Malfoy?" she snapped at him. "Oh, if I disgust you so much, bug off. As you can see, I'm actually _busy_."

Her rage was like oil to his.

"How are you able to be first in every class." He spat, as though the fact of her being first tasted foul in his mouth. Shortly after, the angry creases on his face shifted, disappeared and turned smug. There was a sneer in his voice and the slightly raised eyebrow made him look all the more snobbish. "Oh, I know, of course. You must have cheated. Maybe a little charm you learned from one of those thick books you always carry around, M—"

"What?" she squawked indignantly. How dare he say such thing. _How dare he_. "Just so you know, _Malfoy_ , I do study for my good grades. I don't waste my time hurling insults at anybody I could come across, unlike you!" Her voice rose with each word that she almost shouting at the end of it. With that, she stomped away, intent on getting away from him as far away as she could though leaving a livid, speechless Malfoy behind.

* * *

(ii)

Surprisingly, the (insufferable, annoying, nasty—) Draco Malfoy was in the library.

How strange.

Hermione decided that ignoring him was the best choice.

But she couldn't help but be curious.

For once, he was in deep concentration as he read and studied various books scattered on the table. Malfoy seemed peculiarly ordinary; like a slightly disgruntled, average boy studying for his approaching exams. Though, of course, that was not true at all. He's Malfoy, the spoiled, immature git that took every chance he could get to spite her blood heritage and friends. Thankfully, he didn't notice her as she sat two seats behind him.

Still, _he_ was in the _library_.

Actually _studying._

She never really thought of Malfoy as the studious type.

But he was second in class for a reason.

 _Though second to her_.

There was a small, satisfied smile on her lips at the thought.

* * *

(iii)

She was always there.

The library seemed to be her perfect sanctuary.

Oh, he bloody well noticed the looks she gave him when she thought he was too busy to notice. He had almost laughed at how absurd it is. Him, a Malfoy, studying in the library, of all places with the Mudblood being what? Curious? Of him?

Strangely, he didn't care.

Because he needed to be good, better, _best_.

Better than her, especially.

He couldn't disappoint his father. Again.

(There was always something he did that would disappoint his father and no, he refuse to be a bloody failure).

He would never forget how the Mudblood had dared to stomp away from him.

Oh, he accepted her little challenge.

He will prove her that he is better than she'll ever be.

_He is a Malfoy._

* * *

(iv)

Hermione was beyond distraught.

What a fantastic way for a supposedly wonderful day to be mercilessly ruined.

She was a sobbing mess and was too distracted by her thoughts that she didn't notice the sound of approaching footsteps behind her, coming closer to where she was seated.

"Crying, Granger?"

Her heart stopped and she whirled around to identify who had seen her being pathetic and weeping.

She wished she hadn't.

"Go away, Malfoy." She was too tired for him right now and desperately wished that he would leave her alone as she drew her knees closer to herself, covering her face.

He didn't move and stayed silent.

If she had been her usual self, she would've suspected that something was off about him. After all, he hadn't tried mocking her but she was not on her right mind. Such things seems to be irrelevant to her right then.

She just wanted some peace.

"I told you—"

"I propose a challenge."

"W-What?" She was caught off guard, completely bewildered and she faced him again, founding it difficult for her to see his face. She realized, then, that he was significantly taller than last year and appeared rather dashing in his suit.

Oh, she, Hermione Jean Granger, hadn't just thought of the ferret that way.

No, no, no, no, of course _not_.

"The exams. I'll be first and _when_ I win, I want you to do my homework. For the whole year." She didn't need to look at him to know that he was smirking with hands in his pockets, exuding confidence that it was almost palpable in the air.

"And, if you lose?" Needless to say, she was interested or maybe unconsciously forcing herself to do so. The odd conversation was distracting her from the unpleasant clash with her friends and she felt almost thankful.

Which would be absolutely ridiculous, preposterous, absurd and _impossible_.

Hermione being thankful to Malfoy?

She squashed the feeling down. Repeatedly.

"I won't lose." He scoffed at her and the incredulity of such a thing seemed to be as clear as common sense to him.

_The prat._

"That's what you say but looking back, who's _always_ the one first, Malfoy?" Her retort had obviously struck a chord and he scowled at her.

"You won't be first. For long."

"We'll see about that," Before he could say anything, she cut him off, "But first, I want to know what I'll be getting from you."

If she wins this, which she definitely will, she could make Malfoy stop bullying her friends—

But wait.

Were they even her friends anymore?

Her chest constricted painfully.

"I—" Her voice wavered, just for a moment, before she straightened herself. "I want you to stop calling me 'that' name."

His eyebrow rose up questioningly.

"I thought you would ask me to stop insulting Potter and the Weasel." He gave her a somewhat approving smirk. "I suppose they were the ones who made you cry."

She didn't reply with objections as he previously expected which gave him the confirmation he needed but she was quietly taken aback by his correct observation.

"Stay out of it, Malfoy." She growled threateningly. "Now, do you agree?"

* * *

(v)

Of course, Hermione won.

She never heard the word from his lips ever again. She suspected his ego was bruised and he hadn't told anyone of the deal. She was completely fine with that.

She found it worth it even if she could've asked Malfoy to leave her friends alone.

* * *

(vi)

Hermione begged, sobbed, pleaded— _anything_.

To her, everything was burning and drowning at the same time. She could only see black, white, black and nothing else. Things were a blur as she lost track of time. The scorching hot blades were piercing and slicing her skin—once, twice, thrice then, she inevitably lost count. The agony was wholly overwhelming her inside out. She wished she was dead just for it to _end_.

If only.

Somehow, in the middle of it all, his eyes caught hers.

She undeniably saw a flash of guilt.

But it was utterly useless.

He wouldn't help her, she knew.

He won't raise a finger as she broke down on the floor of his family manor, the laughter of his aunt deafeningly reverberating throughout the room.

* * *

(vii)

Granger's screams were one of the nightmares that he constantly had.

The time when he had seen her cry at the ball seemed to be insignificant compared to _this_.

Draco couldn't help but feel the remorse wash over him as he remembered clearly how she had cried, how their eyes met and the silent begging for him to stop his delirious aunt—

Then what?

If he had done so, what could he have done next?

He would be a traitor to his family and the Dark Lord.

No matter how much he despised serving him, the fear for his family and himself outweighed everything else. He couldn't risk everything he had been trying to protect for Granger because then, all would be for naught.

He really shouldn't care. For goodness sake, it's _Granger_. She wasn't worthy a headache for.

Not caring didn't stop the memories of her from haunting his dreams because he knew.

He knew, deep down, he cared.

* * *

(viii)

Hermione was throwing spells everywhere.

" _Stupefy!"_

She was paralyzing people and occasionally, used several other spells to immobilize many Death Eaters on their school grounds.

But there was so much green. Too much red.

A confused, determined sort of haze settled over her and reminded her to move her legs and her arms. A drive filled with adrenaline and desperation. And fear.

She heard shouting, shrieks of despair and tightened her hold on her wand.

Running, grim-faced, Hermione breathed.

_This is war._

* * *

(ix)

There was no difference.

Absolutely nothing.

Theirs was red but so was his.

It was splattered on the walls and floors, seeping through the cracks of the stones.

Mudbloods, half-bloods, purebloods. Does it matter anymore?

The answer came almost immediately.

No, not in the battlefield. _In war._

It didn't really matter anymore which side would triumph. All he wanted was so that his family would be safe.

And maybe, a small part of himself wanted Potter to win just so that he wouldn't face the horrors of torture and murder again.

As much as he wanted to, Draco couldn't crush that selfish part of himself.

* * *

(x)

Voldemort was defeated.

Once and for all.

The war was over.

Hermione came back to Hogwarts, determined to finish her last year.

Naturally, she became the Head Girl and she was undeniably proud of the title.

What was unexpected was that Draco Malfoy became Head Boy or maybe that he came back to Hogwarts at all.

He was different. It was as if there were ghosts constantly haunting him, dead eyes, face paler that his platinum blonde hair seemed to melt into his skin.

He secluded himself from others and only a handful, Nott and Zabini (who still surprisingly attended Hogwarts despite the students' palpable hatred), had been seen talking to him. Even Goyle stayed away from him as though he was some deadly poison but Malfoy didn't really seem to mind of his absence.

They would have to work closely together as Head Boy and Head Girl, therefore a confrontation was unavoidable.

Though it was not how she expected it to be.

Hermione was walking down the hallway, heading to the library. The visit was going to be the first time after the war and she had missed it. The smell of parchment, quiet rustling of paper, the tranquil silence were some of the things she had loved of the place.

Foolishly, she tripped.

It really wasn't her fault. She was too excited at the prospect of going back to her safe, comfortable haven that she started listing books she would like to read again and wasn't paying attention to where she was going. It was most probably because she knew the way there at the back of her hand that she assumed it was completely fine.

She yelped in surprise and waited for the impact of the floor on her front or worse, her face. It would've happened, if not for the arm around her waist, preventing the fall.

"Granger?"

It was him.

Malfoy released her immediately, once she regained her balance. Meanwhile, she was anxious and desperately wanted herself to say _something_ because both of them were standing stiffly, silent, eyes refusing to meet one another with the books she previously had carried sprawled all over the floor.

The tension was suffocating.

No, Malfoy wasn't the one who killed Dumbledore but _he_ was a Death Eater. No, Malfoy wasn't the one who had tortured her but it was _his_ aunt. No, he had not tried killing Harry but it was because of the Dark Lord's orders that _he_ followed is it not?

He knelt suddenly, her hand was unconsciously reaching for her wand, and slowly collected the books strewn on the floor.

She could only stand there with mouth agape, watching him as he piled her books one by one, her limbs refusing to move.

Malfoy was picking up her books.

_Draco Malfoy was picking up Hermione Granger's books._

She had a strange urge to laugh right then and there.

"Here," He handed the books to her and she wordlessly took it from him and it was silent yet again.

She realized that it was the first time she was able to see him up so close. Her conclusions were the same: hollow eyes, unhealthily pale. But then she could see how tall he was, which was definitely taller than during the ball, and how _tired_ he looked.

She could barely say anything but she managed, "Thank you."

Malfoy had relaxed slightly at her response and he gave her a nod. Hermione was pleasantly surprised at the gesture and she couldn't help but compare on the differences of the young, arrogant Malfoy and this changed but better Malfoy.

As she thought about the mystery that is Draco Malfoy, he walked towards the opposite direction, leaving her in the middle of the hallway, quite dazed and disbelieving.

* * *

(xi)

The second time she met Malfoy, it was in their office.

When she had nervously entered, Malfoy was there, seated behind a table and looking through several papers. He had looked up and gave her a nod which strangely warmed her heart.

Recognition.

She had been trying to construct a conversation in her head ever since he had apologized, however subtly. Yes, he did which was utterly shocking for her. He used to insult her, calling her names and she really never expected so much change from him because the previous Draco Malfoy would never apologize in any way. Much less to her, of all people.

Everyone had changed, one way or another, after the war. Even her.

All that planning went flying out of the window.

She didn't really expected a civil response from him but she should've. He had changed drastically and it seemed that her mind couldn't really grasp it all just yet. She was waiting for Malfoy to snap at her, mock her, anything at all but no, he had _nodded_.

"I—er—uhm—" She blushed furiously as she stumbled over her words.

She really didn't want to know what his face was like right now. Was he laughing? Was he mocking her? Silently gleeful of her difficulty to talk?

She sighed in exasperation and tried to calm herself. She then glanced at him, ready for any expression that would make her blood boil, and found that he was looking at her, patiently waiting for her to finish what she had wanted to say. Though with an eyebrow raised and a faint twitch in the corner of his lips.

Once again, she was hit by how much he had changed and yet, not completely.

She decided that she would get straight to the point. She hated beating around the bush anyway.

She wanted to step forward, give in to her curiosity. Give him _one_ chance.

"I—" Hermione steeled herself, shakily declaring, "It's alright."

* * *

(xii)

Clearly, there was something wrong with Granger's head. So much for 'the brightest witch of her age'.

To say that Draco was shocked was a serious understatement. He knew that his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape but he really couldn't find himself to bother about such things.

His mind was completely blank and he could say nothing at all.

Instead, he turned his eyes to the papers on the table and nodded again.

It was as if nodding was the only thing he could do these days.

He couldn't help but question himself, over and over.

What had he done to deserve such acceptance from her? A chance?

True, he had swallowed his pride and it was a very un-Malfoy-like thing to do because it was too honest, generous, thoughtful of him but his guilt had been eating him alive. He couldn't help but take any chance for a reprieve, no matter how small, from her.

Even so, why?

* * *

(xiii)

They would meet in the office and work quietly together.

There was no tension between them after the exchange but it had been awkward at first as they were both unsure on how to approach each other. Though, they went pass that after several days, had talked and she found that Malfoy wasn't such a bad conversational partner at all. Sometimes, they would ask questions of several topics ranging from their classes to the title of their favourite books and mild teasing would be thrown around. They were on friendly terms and Hermione was content.

Quite.

She knew that it was simply because Malfoy had chuckled.

The creases on his face, the slight upturn of his lips, the glint in his eyes, it all had surprised her into silence. She really hadn't been expecting a chuckle because most of the time, his response would perhaps be an amused smirk, a playful roll of his eyes or a witty retort.

"Granger?" The chuckle died and he was back to his neutral expression yet there were signs that he was unsure and was it concern?

"Nothing. Just—" She gave him a smile, "You—you should smile more, Malfoy. I mean, you look better when you do."

Truthfully, she wanted to hear the sound of his genuine laughter again. It was pleasant to her ears and it was the sign that he was opening up to her, further proving that they were friends now.

_Friends._

If several years earlier, someone had said to Hermione that the chuckle of Draco Malfoy would bring her happiness or that she would've wanted him as a friend, she would have slapped the person without question.

"Granger," He sighed but his usual smirk was back again, "there is hardly anything to smile about, really."

Malfoy was like a clam. He shut himself tight from others resulting in his aloofness towards strangers, his normal smirking self to people who knew him more than others but nothing more than that. He never really smiled or laughed freely but that would certainly be quite abnormal. Malfoy wasn't a really a smiling person and if he did show such expression to everyone, people would probably conclude that he had hit his head somewhere.

At least, he wasn't a bully anymore and did a job well done in keeping order, his reputation helping.

"I would've guessed that I'll be directly sent to Madam Pomfrey the moment I smile or laugh openly." He remarked casually.

"Oh, that is true. But it'll be a good laugh to see people screaming about Malfoy finally losing his mind." Her grin stretched wider and wider as she imagined the chaos that little stunt would've caused.

"I shall consider it then. Maybe even calling you to let you watch."

She couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

(xiv)

"Pity isn't it, Malfoy?"

"I'll say it again, let go of me or I'll deduct your house points."

They laughed.

"Acting tough just because you're Head Boy now? No daddy to praise you for it too. Poor, poor Draco."

As they continued to laugh, he was seething with rage.

"10 points off Sly—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." His demeanor changed instantly and he snarled.

"Watch me."

Just as he was about to say it again, guaranteeing Goyle's and his (surprising, really) cronies' rage, there was a shout.

"What are you doing?"

It's her again.

"Oh, look, it's that little Mudblood," There was another round of laughter, "come here to fetch the little ferret traitor?"

"10 points off Slytherin." It died down. "Release him." Her voice was commanding and controlled.

"Who are you to—"

"5 points off Slytherin. Now, again, release him."

With an angry growl, he did as he was told.

Of course, he wouldn't allow them to go away without another insult.

"Seems like the Mudblood is rescuing you, Malfoy!" There were snickers this time. "Perfect match you two! The Mudblood woman and the blood traitor—"

"At least," she hissed, successfully shutting Goyle's runny mouth, "he has brains inside his skull not just a lump of rotten flesh in his head like yours."

Without a doubt, there was a series of enraged shouts and deduction of points after.

* * *

(xv)

Hermione was torn.

She wasn't sure if she should even be supporting Gryffindor which was an idiotic thought because it is her house.

But a remote, miniscule part of her was supporting Slytherin.

"It's Malfoy! He's—"

"He caught the Snitch!"

Maybe she imagined the joy she felt for the win of their rival house when the Slytherins cheered.

* * *

(xvi)

" _Are you going home, Malfoy?"_

" _No."_

" _Oh, really?"_

" _Yes, my mother is coming to Hogsmeade instead."_

" _Hm, alright. Then, Merry Christmas, Malfoy."_

" _Merry Christmas, Granger."_

* * *

(xvii)

The more he found happiness, he found that he would fear for it more.

It would always be his mother, tortured, weak, helpless. His father would do nothing. Draco could do nothing. He would scream at night for her, begging the other Death Eaters, his aunt and the Dark Lord himself to stop.

He couldn't be more grateful that every time he woke up, he would realize that the Dark Lord and his crazed aunt are both dead.

Including his father who was not dead but slowly, escalating into madness and rotting in Azkaban.

It pained him that his father would do nothing if he or his mother would be tortured or killed.

At the same time, he was disgusted.

Draco would not be his father.

He found this strangely ironic.

Moreover, what he found disturbing was that he had dreamt of Granger; the night she was tortured in the floor of his own residence. He would wake up, search the floor for her, expecting himself to be standing beside both his mother and father, but then he would come back to his senses.

Draco's life was full of irony at this point of time.

One of his closest friend was a Muggle-born.

The rug under his feet was pulled away and he found himself falling.

But he had already fallen and felt the cold, hard floor.

* * *

(xviii)

"Malfoy?"

He responded with a grunt.

"Why are so quiet today?"

He stopped writing his Potions essay, faced her and quirked an eyebrow, a strange indication for her to elaborate.

"You seem… off today." Hermione mentioned hesitantly. She wondered if she had done something wrong but dismissed the idea. He didn't seem to be upset _at_ her.

Well, that's what she thought anyway.

"Now, Granger, are you worried of my wellbeing?" He smirked as her cheeks turned pink and she huffed in annoyance. "No need to worry your pretty, little head over it. I'm fine."

Hermione didn't know how but she knew, somehow, that he was lying.

The sudden appearance of the dark bags under his eyes had said something else.

She felt a sharp ache at the thought of Malfoy lying to her.

* * *

(xix)

"Malfoy didn't do anything to you, right? Really, you could get hurt."

"His whole family is dark, better to stay away from him."

"Like father, like son. He should in Azkaban with his daddy."

Those remarks annoyed Hermione to no end.

Can't these people believe in repentance? Was it so hard?

Sometimes, she swore she would wake up and saw that she was still in her first year at Hogwarts, happy, innocent, excited and completely despising the one and only Draco Malfoy.

It was the opposite this time.

"I know you mean well but," She would look at them in the eye to further emphasize her point, "we've settled our differences."

Most of the time, the reaction would range from disbelief to disdain of her or her statement, she didn't really know.

"If you don't know him, don't judge him. You'll be no better than what you're saying of him."

To say that that halted their confessions of their discomfort was a success would be false because she was aware that they were still talking behind her back.

One of their favourite things that they would gossip would be how she and Malfoy were secretly lovers.

Her face almost morphed into an ugly sneer.

If they truly were, she would actually go about and let people know of it so that his name wouldn't be further dragged through the mud, proving that he is able to change for the better.

There would be fear on both sides, she supposed, for she won't know of how Harry and Ron would react to such thing but if they were truly her friends, they would have to accept her choices. Malfoy's mother would also accept such relationship if she did truly wish him happiness.

Being friends with him had some troublesome cons but the pros were worth it.

* * *

(xx)

He had said it, directly to the point, because they didn't like a meaningless roundabout on an issue.

"People are talking because we're friends, Granger. What do you think?"

She blinked, once, twice then giggled.

Draco thought that she may have lost her mind.

"Honestly, I couldn't care less. They don't know you're not that kind of person." She sighed softly. "You've changed and you're better now. Hm, but you probably should tone down the threats of house points deduction. That'll make you seem less scary."

She giggled again as he smirked, feeling immense relief and he really could only wonder why.

"It's fun to see them squirm and panic in fear, though. I suppose I can tone it down..." He trailed off but his eyes spelled mischief.

"What now, Malfoy? You're plotting something again."

"Granger, how could you say that?" He exclaimed in mock horror. "Last year in Hogwarts. Excuse me for having a bit of fun."

"Terrorizing first years is hardly what I call 'fun', Malfoy." She stared at him as if he was absurd and chided him just as she was his mother.

"Oh, you wouldn't know until you see it."

He offered her his hand and she took it, curiosity taking over her.

Malfoy's hand was warm and hers fit perfectly in his. She felt something as they held hands, him gently pulling her through several hallways but as she watched him, he was the same. She identified an unusual bubble of disappointment from this revelation.

She admit, however, that his hand felt pleasant as it enveloped hers.

* * *

(xxi)

Draco Malfoy was avoiding her.

She rarely saw him anymore and every time she thought he would be in the office, he wasn't. She had heard of him having Quidditch practice, various group projects and other excuses she didn't bother listing because they were a bunch of jumbled up, stupid fabrication to cover that he was indeed, truly, avoiding her.

Though, she had victoriously cornered him now, demanding for an explanation.

However, they were both equally stubborn.

 _Very_ stubborn.

"What? Granger, I'm not avoiding you." He stated firmly, not budging.

"Oh, yes, Malfoy. Looking away, turning the other way around in the middle of the hallway, not greeting, not sitting next to me anymore, not talking at all these— _these_ are all 'not avoiding' me?"

She felt hurt.

Deeply.

"No, Granger. I really am not bloody avoiding you." He sighed and she noticed that he resembled a walking dead man with his uniform slightly rumpled, his posture sloppy and face haggard.

It didn't stop the betrayal she felt.

"Liar," She whispered as her eyes watered. She bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. "Fine. If that's how you want it."

She turned and fled the scene.

If Hermione had took a glance at him then, she would've seen his eyes burning with fear, anguish and confusion all at once as he watched her go.

* * *

(xxii)

"You know, Malfoy, you look like you've been stomped by an angry herd of centaurs."

"Not one word, Zabini."

"Is it just me or you became like this when you stopped getting along with her—"

" _Not one bloody word."_

* * *

(xxiii)

The tension was back.

This was the first time they were together in the office after the little conflict between them. They both refused to talk and simply did their work, with the sound of quill on parchment as the only noise in the room.

The way they both kept silence, not uttering a word, was driving Hermione mad.

"Oh! That's it! Draco Malfoy, what in the name of Merlin is wrong with you?"

Her blood was boiling and she had had enough of it. She's sick and tired that he wasn't talking to her for something she didn't know she did. Well, she had been ignoring him too but it was Malfoy that started it.

Gods, she sounded like a five year old child.

Her friends were all very good to her, like Luna and Ginny, but some had stayed away from her because she had befriended Malfoy. She considered such actions as ludicrous because even she, who he had ruthlessly belittled in their earlier years, had forgiven him. Why can't they?

Her circle of friends grew smaller each day.

She missed both Ron and Harry.

But Malfoy had made it better than bearable.

They had so many similarities that she was taken aback at first and the brilliant part was that he was able to keep up with her ramblings or ideas. She felt ecstatic that someone was able to understand her, as Harry and Ron never really had bothered, and even take them into consideration.

Them bantering back and forth with sarcasm.

Them debating about house elves rights.

Them being friends like they used to be.

Hermione discovered that she was lonely.

"Maybe I did something wrong but if you won't tell me what, I won't ever know, will I?" She didn't realize until it was too late that a tear was trailing down her cheek. She rubbed on it furiously. "I just want us to talk again."

Malfoy didn't respond for the longest time and her heart broke.

"So that's it, then?" She laughed bitterly. "You truly are a Malfoy. Taking everything for granted then throwing it away, just as easy. To think that I said you changed—"

"Stop it, Granger."

His tone was cold and found that her eyes watered again.

"Oh, finally, you opened your mouth. Stop spouting out the truth? I—"

"Granger!"

She paused and eyed him as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, if you wanted it so badly." He muttered something under his breath that seemed to suspiciously be 'stubborn woman.' Sighing heavily, he said, "People have been talking. And…they've been saying nasty things, alright?"

She blinked.

A split second later, she saw only red.

"I told you, Malfoy! I don't—"

"Care? Well, yes. Though, that wouldn't be what you would say once you find it difficult to find work after—"

"I really don't bloody care, Draco!"

She had rendered him speechless and felt rather proud of herself.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I have a feeling you're not telling me everything."

He stared at her for a moment and then, further baffled her by laughing. She could only watch him as he laughed, mute and numb.

_What?_

"Right, I suppose—" He took a deep breath to cease his mirth and continued, though softer now, "I suppose I should tell you if you're so…troubled."

She rolled her eyes as he smirked but it died soon enough.

"I—I have nightmares about my mother. Well, most of the time." As she pondered on where exactly this was going, he hesitated. "I dream about you sometimes too, in the manor, and it's getting worse."

He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled harshly.

Hermione knew what he had meant and could only say a small "Oh."

"There are still Death Eaters out there, you know. My mother and I both don't really have the best reputation. If I get too close to you, one of Potter's friends, it's like hitting two birds with one stone. I should have realized this sooner but it was too late and became this bloody mess."

Understanding dawned on her. He was trying to make her life better for her.

By making it worse.

"In Hogwarts, it may be alright but there could still be spies here. You never know. They may even have already mentioned that 'Malfoy is befriending Granger' and the next target will ultimately be you. Once you graduated, it's your responsibility to protect yourself." He held up his hand and her retort died on her throat. "No, I'm not saying you're not capable of protecting yourself but you're independent and stubborn enough to do some very reckless things." Pausing, he corrected himself, "A lot of reckless things."

Blinking, Hermione tried to reorient herself in several seconds, mind swimming with thoughts and heart choked with feelings she couldn't fully understand, "I'm fine. And capable. You heard yourself. This, Malfoy, _this_ is not worth sacrificing our friendship for." She had almost gripped her hair in frustration. Even keeping her voice from rising was difficult.

"I really don't want to hear the morning news saying that the Gryfinddor princess was reported lost or worse."

_Dead._

"No, they wouldn't get me so easily." She huffed and then she started to giggle, lifting the heavy atmosphere. "Brightest witch of her age, remember?"

"Well, yes, confident, are we?" She flashed him a smile and a thumbs up.

"But, Granger," He sighed again, "this really is a serious matter. Are you sure?" There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes, Draco. I'm sure."

"Alright then," he paused. "Hermione."

He thought that her grin, bright and sunny, fit her perfectly.

* * *

(xxiv)

"Ginny,"

She answered with a shake of her head.

"Oh."

"I'm sure it'll come soon, Hermione. Don't worry."

"I suppose." An uncomfortable stillness descended between them. "You—you don't think they forgot, right?"

"No, Hermione, of course not. Why would they?"

There was a pile of unspoken implications under her reassurance and they both knew of it.

"They're busy. I guess I should be patient."

Ginny could only offer her a tentative smile.

* * *

(xxv)

"You're dating Weasley, aren't you?"

He mentioned it, too nonchalant, as he browsed through the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet that it was as though he was simply mentioning the weather.

What a curious question.

"Well, yes." For a moment, she swore she saw a flicker in his eyes. "Why are you so interested?"

"No, no nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Come on, Draco, tell me." She stubbornly insisted.

"I just heard about him, a few days before. Just trying to confirm it because I—" He gave her a look—which she managed to identify as something close to weariness—and proceeded to ignore what he just said.

"Yes?" She urged him to continue. Once again, her curiosity taking over her.

"Nothing."

"Come on. Please?"

"I don't really see you reading letters or anything like that."

She flinched.

"Really? Weasley? Nothing?"

Not confirming, to him, seems to be the answer.

"That's worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one, that's not a nice way to treat a lady. If I am in Weasley's shoes—though I will never wear any of his for _anything_ at all—I would've written a letter or _something_ to reassure you, maybe just to comfort you, no matter the distance."

"Since when have you become such a romantic, Draco?" She asked him, skeptical.

"Not only romantic and charming, Hermione." He gave her a wink and then, chuckled at her perplexed expression.

* * *

(xxvi)

"I probably won't be able to beat you in anything but Potions."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't let you get even a single victory. You're very much welcome on the second seat though."

"You'll see, I'll win quite fantastically."

"This reminds me of our first challenge."

"Alright, another deal?"

"If I win, which I will, I want to reintroduce yourself to Harry and Ron."

He scrunched his nose in disgust and she laughed.

"I better ensure that I win then."

"Which you won't."

" _When_ I win, I want us to write letters after graduating."

"You know, they're both to my advantage. I wanted to ask you of it too."

He replied with a grunt.

"Deal."

* * *

(xxvii)

Draco won.

Hermione found that she really didn't mind. She'll be able to make him meet Harry and Ron anyway, she's quite certain.

* * *

(xxviii)

He knew there was something wrong with him.

When he sees Hermione, he felt—

Happy?

Draco really wasn't sure of what it was and he absolutely loathed not knowing.

When she mentioned the Weasel, there was an ache and angry thought of hexing him.

Was he jealous?

Does he really…?

The colour drained from his face.

Draco likes Hermione.

_Draco likes Hermione who's taken by the Weasley._

He groaned and felt a huge headache coming for him.

* * *

(xxix)

"Last dance, Hermione?" He offered her his arm and winked.

"Yes, yes, Draco." She rolled her eyes but grinned at him.

"You know that you can't resist me." He stated as he led her to the dance floor.

"Oh, you're such a prat."

"Brilliant, charming prat that is."

She gave him a sharp look and he smiled.

Hermione would never admit that his smile, warm and gentle, had made her heart skip a beat.

* * *

(xxx)

"I suppose this is it."

Hermione faltered but smiled nonetheless.

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen, Draco." She laughed as he looked aghast, "We have owls and we can still meet each other whenever we are free." Softening, she met his eyes and said with absolute certainty, "You will always be my friend."

Slowly, Draco smiled. It caused something to hitch in her throat and her eyes to water ever so slightly. _This is not goodbye_ , she promised to herself.

"Always."

Unaware of anything else, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He stiffened, perhaps shocked, then as if uncertain, returned her embrace just as fiercely.

It must be quite a sight; a Gryffindor red mashed against Slytherin green in the middle of the platform that started it all.

"Thank you, Draco." Granger's voice was slightly muffled as her face was pressed onto his chest, further entangling his butterfly-filled stomach. "I—how do I describe how great this year was, spending time with you?"

His chest squeezed but filled with warmth he couldn't put a finger on. Composing himself, he chuckled, "Well, you can start with an essay on how great I am at Potions and how charming I am…"

Almost too suddenly, she laughed loudly. He found comfort in her mirth and started to laugh himself.

"I'll get started on it right away. Complete with those fancy parchments that cost too much to be worth it too." Grinning amusedly at him, robes slightly rumpled and eyes alight, Draco thought to himself that she looked beautiful and content.

He mussed her hair—distracting himself from silly, love-struck observations—and retracted his hand when she tried swatting it away. "Good. I'm expecting great things from you, Miss Granger."

"You're hilarious, Mister Malfoy." She said, eyes sparkling. Then, it shifted away to something behind him and she brightened, "Mum! Dad!"

Hermione sprinted away and despite smiling fondly at her, emptiness clawed out of his skin. Shaking his head, he searched for his mother's distinctive blonde hair. To his surprise, she was watching him with her hand leaning against a nearby pillar. As she neared him, Draco couldn't help but engulf his mother with his arms. She was safe. _Safe._

His mother reciprocated and they stood there, filled with a quiet kind of contentment and reassurance. In another time, he wouldn't have felt so desperate in regards to his mother but she was one of the remaining few that he held close.

Gently, she cupped his face and traced his cheek to his jaw with her thumb. He closed his eyes, reveling in his mother's presence. It grounded him and he let out a shaky sigh.

"Draco." Her voice was warm and soothing to his ears.

"Mother."

Narcissa stepped away from him and took out her wand, ready to Apparate away. But she hesitated when she noticed that her son's eyes were no longer on her.

She followed his gaze towards the girl she saw Draco conversed with and recognized her to be one of Harry Potter's close friends.

 _Of course,_ she thought, smiling a bittersweet smile to herself. Narcissa understood the moment she glanced at the face of her son; a look so soft on the sharp lines of his Malfoy features.

"Go on." She prompted, almost raising an elegant eyebrow when he turned to her, seemingly bewildered. She repeated, gentler this time, "Go."

Draco shifted, guilty and doubtful but went to Hermione with long, purposeful strides. And Narcissa watched on, her heart bloating with pride and humming fulfillment.

She eyed their goodbyes filled with lingering, hesitant waving and almost touches. Narcissa continued to wonder as they, mother and son, reached home at last.

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

 

(∞)

"Draco." She said, putting down her teacup.

"Hermione." He returned as he approached her seat.

In the silence, they smiled. Then laughed.

* * *

_and i will fall_

_backwards and forwards,_

_tens, hundreds, thousands of times,_

_down millions of miles,_

_if it meant_

_falling_

_into your arms_

 


End file.
